


Coming Clean

by westernbirds



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Baseball, First Kiss, Gay Panic, M/M, McDonald's, Sleepovers, bill plays baseball and they are at the game for like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernbirds/pseuds/westernbirds
Summary: "Nah man, just sleep here.” Richie patted the bed under him.Eddie blinked. “There? With you?”“Yeah dude, what’s the big deal?” Richie chuckled nervously. “I won’t try to suffocate you this time.”“Just don’t hog the blankets.” Eddie said as he jumped into the bed under the covers, and rolled over to the corner facing the wall.Based off: Coming Clean by Green Day





	Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

> [part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692319)   
[part 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809820)   
[part 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825570)   
[part 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863043)

_Secrets collecting dust but never forget_

_ Skeletons come to life in my closet_

_ I’ve found out what it takes to be a man_

_ Now mom and dad will never understand _

_What’s happening to me_

//

Richie remained calm and collected as his dilemma grew bigger than the size of his own beating heart. The uneasiness; a queasy feeling in his stomach rose higher and higher as the days and weeks of high school passed him by. He also felt a strong sense of normalcy and comfort in the way him and his friends’ futures were moving along.

The tired, mop-haired teen leaned against a pole that held up the bleachers, the audience above cheering on Derry’s own high school baseball team; this was not a place where Richie felt comfortable.

Not because of the crowd, though. Richie quite enjoyed crowds.

He was uneasy about the young woman approaching him.

"Hey.” The brunette said shyly, throwing her cigarette out on the grass and putting it out with her mary janes. A little voice in his head warned_ ‘Fire hazard!’ _

“Hey.”

She stared at him for a beat, then asked: “You got my note?”

“Nah, I just felt like hanging out under here to listen to a hundred teens screaming their fuckin’ heads off about a ball.” Richie chuckled and she gave a grin in return. “What’s up? Did ya need tutoring or something, because I don’t exactly have the highest grades in chemistry. If I could direct your attention to Jason Harmer however—”

“No, Richie I wanted to talk to you.” She tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ear.

If it wasn’t a late October evening, Richie would have been able to see her pinked cheeks. He blinked in disbelief. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” She asked.

"Uh, no, surprisingly. I am not. I know, I know, I’m devastatingly handsome.” He adjusted his glasses, feeling the sweat begin to build around the bridge of his nose.

“So, the two of us can talk then?” She continued curiously, and walked a little closer, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes. Richie’s stomach twisted, either from nervousness or the resemblance of her eyes to someone else’s he knew so well.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. We can talk. Totally fine.” He kept his hands in his navy windbreaker, although they were becoming clammy. “What about?”

Richie Tozier wasn’t stupid, but it’s not as if this kind of thing happened to him more than once: The first being a quick smooch shared with Kelly Greyson after school in the eighth grade. He had kissed before, obviously, but no girl ever left him with more than excitement to tell a disgustingly exaggerated story to his friends.

The other seventeen-year-old in front of him tilted her head to the side cutely.

“You know...” She laughed nervously. “You’re very cute. And kind of funny, so...” She finished with another giggle. _The girl seems to find me very funny,_ Richie thought,_ because she can’t stop herself from giggling at me._

“Wow, thanks. For the compliment. You’re not bad yourself.” Richie said, attempting to smirk flirtatiously, still red in the face.

She stepped forward again. Richie came forward as well, and put his hand on the back of her neck. He experimentally gave her a small peck on the lips.

She smiled at that and ducked her head nervously.

Then they shared another.

Then the situation got kind of wet and awkward; Richie’s hands felt clammier than ever. He was worried that the one on her neck had somehow gotten tangled up in her soft hair. The girls’ own arms were still pinned to her sides._ ‘Hoist em up here, put em somewhere, what are you doin’ lassie!?’ _He felt like yelling, then realized he didn’t even know his classmate’s name.

He breathed heavily as they parted, then further slouched into the pole behind him, feeling cornered.

“Sorry.” He said.

The girl frowned.

“Look, if you’re not into me, don’t feel bad.” She stepped back slightly, looking everywhere but Richie’s eyes. “I’m guessing you’re into Bev, since you guys seem to hang around all the time.”

“No, no, no. Not Marsh.” He wiped his lips, trying to get the taste of cigarettes off._ ‘Like licking an ashtray’_ the little voice in his brain said.

Richie suddenly felt the urge to puke.

“Okay, cool, because she’s the one who suggested I get to know you.” She smirked and adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder.

Richie nodded. “Sorry.” He said again and cleared his throat.

“It’s alright. Thanks anyways Richie, see you in class.” She spun on her heels and waved, her back facing him.

“Cya.” He said helplessly, and gave a small wave in return as she turned out from under the bleachers.

“Shit.” Richie ran a hand through his hair and slid down onto the ground. “_Fuck_.”

//

“Hey Tozier, did Kelly come see you?” Beverly picked up the bag she used to save a spot for Richie on the bleachers and placed it at her feet.

“Uh, oh her. Yeah.” Richie sat and scratched the back of his head. “Cute brunette. Nice body. She wasn’t that into me though.”

“Oh shit, sorry Rich. I thought she was. She asked me about you.” Bev was more focused on picking off the last of her green nail-polish than the game on the field in front of them.

“Who’s winning?” Richie squinted up at the scoreboard. Derry definitely wasn’t.

“No idea, Stan and I were just playing I-spy.” The redhead pointed to the curly haired boy resting on her shoulder.

“I-spy with my little eye…” Richie said in a mystical voice and Beverly snorted. “…a very sleepy Stan the Man.”

Stanley Uris lifted his head and slouched forward to speak to his friend. “I’m _tired_. Did Bill still want to get dinner after this?”

"I don’t know dude, go out on the field and ask him.” Richie joked.

“Ugh.” He laid back on his friends’ shoulder. “Wake me up when we get there.”

“I am not carrying you.” Richie zipped up his jacket, feeling quite chilly now that he was seated.

“It’ll be payback for that one night you got really drunk at Ben’s place,” Stanley mumbled. “and I had to carry you out to my car.”

“Your dad’s car.” Richie chimed.

“Whatever, man. Is Eddie meeting us there?”

Richie’s stupid heart skipped at the name, as if he hadn’t heard it a hundred thousand times before. “I don’t know. He had a ton of Calculus homework and I doubt he’ll walk twenty minutes in this weather.”

“I think he would.” Beverly smirked. “If you’re gonna be there.” She looked at Stan with a grin and Stan rolled his eyes and nodded.

“What the hell does that mean?” Richie muttered with a frown, not really wanting the answer.

“You guys are— Oh I think the game just ended.” Stan shot up.

“Sweet, I’m hungry.” Beverly swung her book bag over her shoulder, almost hitting a middle-aged woman and her son behind them. “Sorry.”

“So, we lost?” Richie looked at the disappointed crowd surrounding them. “Yup. Definitely lost.”

//

“I’ll get a McChicken,” Bill yelled over his friends’ chatter.

“Extra large fries!” Richie interrupted.

“Chocolate milkshake, please.” Beverly said from the corner of the booth.

“A double cheese burger, a medium soda,” Bill added.

“I guess I’ll have a BigMac. And water.” Stanley said, head resting in his hand.

“Throw in a medium fry.” Bill finished.

“Christ, Bill, slow down.” Mike scribbled down on his notebook the end of the booth. "Ben?”

“I’m good, already ate at home.” Ben said half-heartedly. The rest looked at him, puzzled.

“S-still on the diet?” Bill asked.

Ben shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah, I only just started noticing a difference last week so… gonna keep pushing through, I guess.”

“Guh-good on you, man. Get me a cup for ice too!” Bill yelled to Mike who was making his way to the register.

“I vill go get ze ketzup.” Rich exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table and stood.

"And napkins.” Stan yelled to him.

"And napkins.” Richie threw him some finger-guns.

The Losers took turns each month, treating the rest to a night out of whatever was of interest in that moment; sometimes it was alcohol (usually a courtesy of Richie, who was the only one slimy enough to steal from his parents), arcade tokens, cheap seat movie tickets or fast food. It was the one day all of them could get together in one place, due to their conflicting schedules.

Richie found himself spending one-on-one time with Beverly more than anyone else (but of course, not as much as the other shorty he knew.) She was easy-going, and never seemed to be annoyed by his god-awful impressions and crude humour. The two happened to share many of the same interests; from music to marijuana, to movie taste…

His hand slipped, and he spilt some of the ketchup on his jacket sleeve as he realized that Beverly and him shared one other taste Richie had forbid himself to mention out loud.

_ ‘Wow, Jack Sturgeon has a nice ass.’_ He recalled Bev whispering to herself and the two other boys with her at the lunch table. Eighth grade Richie couldn’t help but sneak a glance, then had to stop himself from nodding in agreement. He flushed. The other boy seated with them however, looked shocked.

_‘Why the fuck would you look at a random guys ass?’_ Eddie had asked Beverly rudely. _‘That’s...’_

_‘You wouldn’t understand, Eds.’_ Richie shook his head.

‘_What wouldn’t I understand_?’ The shorter boy titled his head, scowling very cutely. He took a sip from his milk carton.

‘_Um, girls. Obviously. They have weird tastes. But dudes look at girls’ asses too, obviously. We do, I mean. I’m dudes.’_

Then Eddie had laughed so hard, milk squirted out of his nose. Richie laughed too, and awkwardly changed the subject after that.

In the middle of this tortured memory, he felt a sharp jab on either side of his torso.

“Ow! Shit! What the—”

Richie turned and saw the familiar brunet standing in front of him, a satisfied grin playing off his lips.

“Eds, what the fuck man! Fuck you!”

“God, that was _hilarious_. You look so pissed. How the tables have turned!” Eddie punched his arm and a cup of ketchup fell out of his friends’ hand.

“Shit. Clean up on isle seven, because that’s how old you’re acting.” Richie said smugly, and quickly picked the mess up with a napkin. 

“You’re one to talk. Give me some of those.” Eddie grabbed two cups, his fingers lightly brushing Richie’s. Richie felt the current pass between them that he often felt when Eddie and him touched. 

They walked to the table together and Eddie sat next to Bill on the end. The boys and Bev shared their hello’s.

“What do you want, Eds?” Richie stood at the table, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, vanilla milkshake and fries.”

“_Vanilla_. Of course.” Richie winked.

“The fuck you mean _‘of course’_?” Eddie crossed his arms and sank into his seat. “Sick bastard.”

“Actually, it wasn’t sick, because he literally just _stated_ that you were vanilla, which you are.” Beverly chimed.

“You’re a little shit today.” Stan smiled.

“So are you. And you.” She pointed to Stanley and then Eddie.

“Eds is always a little shit, but I still buy him dinner.” Richie ruffled the seated teen’s hair.

“Gah. This isn’t dinner dumbass, it’s nine o’clock.” Is all Eddie said, so Richie went to the cashier, passing Mike who was coming back with their food.

Richie ordered his friends’ request. When he came back, he took a sip out of the shake before setting it down in front of Eddie.

“Just checking to see if it’s poisoned, Eddie-bear.” He smacked his lips. “I think it’s safe.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t give much of a shit about germs anymore, so that doesn’t bother me.”

Richie made some fake hacking and coughing noises, then reached into Mike’s paper bag to pull out his own fries. All of them laughed but Eddie and Stanley, who was nearly unconscious.

“You should care, Rich is full of disease-r-ridden germs.” Bill said. “W-we found him on the street downtown in a dumpster if I can recall. Poor little guy.” He reached over Eddie and patted Richie’s bushy head.

Beverly added a dramatic gag for effect. “He was so disgusting and dirty he looked more like a raccoon.” She scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I definitely couldn’t tell he was human.”

This caused Ben to clutch his stomach and wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. He always found everything Bev said incredibly hilarious. Eddie, Mike and Bill chuckled too. Stanley whined, somehow asleep on the table in the midst of this and muffled a quiet “s’not school yet mom...”

“Thanks guys, love you too.” Richie smiled fondly, then squished in closer to Eddie. “But not as much as I love Eds.”

In the midst of the Losers, his best friends in the whole world, Richie Tozier felt comfortable enough to place his hand on Eddie Kaspbrak’s knee and give it a small squeeze. The others were busy conversing and didn’t notice the smile shared between the two; it was one that was unashamed and natural, a smile that only they could share that somehow showed a deep understanding of one another.

Richie’s hand didn’t move until they left the restaurant an hour and a half later.

//

“Could I stay over at yours?” A nervous voice asked him in the parking lot. Richie didn’t believe he heard that right.

“What?” He whipped his head over to Eddie in the midst of unlocking his car. “Like, a sleepover?”

“No need to get all elementary with the terminology.” Eddie drummed his hands on the back of the car. "My mom got pissed at me for going out. I kinda feel like avoiding her until tomorrow morning, I guess.” He bit his lip.

“Sure dude.” Richie busied himself with getting into his vehicle. “Get in, I was gonna give you a ride home anyway.”

Eddie got into the passenger side.

“This makes the trip easier I guess.” Richie smirked.

“Guess so. Hey, you got an empty bag of mints in here.” Eddie grabbed it off the floor. “I got you these, I thought you hated them?”

“Nah, they grew on me.” He admitted and popped in a mixtape. “I needed them for a hot make-out sesh with your mom.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie’s cheesey smile and stared out the passenger window. “Put on Bowie.”

Richie hummed, pressed skip thrice and landed on _Drive-In Saturday_. The two sat in comfortable silence momentarily.

“Christ, slow down,” Eddie hissed and held onto his seat. “You just got your license, like, last month.”

“Been driving this baby for a year though.” Richie hit the dashboard. Sometimes he purposely drove like a maniac to get a rise out of Eddie. “Gotta get home so the princess can get her beauty sleep.” He made an extremely sharp turn onto his own street.

“Christ! Lord in heaven.” Eddie closed his eyes for a moment, then snapped them back open. “Wha—who the hell are you calling 'princess?'"

Richie yelped when Eddie punched his arm. "Ah, don’t hit me, dude! I’m drivin’ here!”

He went up the drive-way as slowly as possible before putting shifting the gear into park.

“Ugh. I need to lay down.” Eddie held his head in his hands, and ran them slowly through his un-styled, wispy curls. He looked up at Richie. “What?”

_You were staring, you were totally staring! _Richie flushed and cringed. “Nothing, get out of my car, let’s go, go, go!” He rushed out and ran to the door.

“Everything is a race to you.” Eddie smiled, jogging up to the door that Richie was struggling to unlock. He shivered. “Put the key in and turn it. Do you know how to use a lock, buddy?”

“Yeah butt-face, my hands are just fucking freezing. There.” The door opened and the boys quietly walked in.

Richie shut the door behind them and threw off his shoes, while Eddie placed them neatly on the matt. “Hot chocolate? Tea?” Richie offered.

“Camomile?” Eddie asked.

“Comin’ right up.” Richie shrugged his jacket off and went to the kitchen to plug a kettle in. “Go upstairs and change into whatever. Clean clothes are in the drawer.”

"I sure hope so.” Eddie muttered, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his face.

//

"I got the goods.” Richie pushed the door open with his knee, two steamy mugs in his hands.

His heart just about stopped the moment he walked in; Eddie was sitting there on his bed in Richie’s old t-shirt and gym shorts, both of which were too big on him. The boy looked up from the comic book he was flipping through to raise an eyebrow at his frozen friend.

“Cute.” Richie blurted. “Cute, cute, _cute_!” He added for old-times sake, as he set the mugs down on his nightstand and jumped to grab his friends’ cheek.

“Ouch, fuck, stop it! Get off!” He laughed as the taller toppled onto him. Eddie kicked his legs wildly and wriggled beneath him. Richie’s stomach churned as he suddenly felt a familiar and shocking heat, so he decided it was best to get off.

“Couldn’t help myself.” He smirked, cheeks flushed again. “What’re you reading?” He passed Eddie his cup of tea and sat on the bed beside him.

“_X-Men_. Issue 162, I think.” He squinted at it. “And I believe that’s hot sauce on the page.”

“Wouldn’t be mine without it.” Richie crossed his legs and sipped his hot chocolate.

“Yeah.” Eddie yawned. “Stains are pretty on-brand for you.”

The two of them chatted idly until Richie burnt his tongue on his drink. Eddie laughed at him, and spilt his own on the floor.

“Fuck. Sorry.” He muttered to Richie who stood up to get a towel.

“Fahget about it.” He waved him off and threw the towel over the spot on the carpet.

"I’m pooped. I could go sleep downstairs on the couch I guess…” Eddie stood and stepped over the spot on the carpet.

"Nah man, just sleep here.” Richie patted the bed under him.

Eddie blinked. “There? With you?”

“Yeah dude, what’s the big deal?” Richie chuckled nervously. “I won’t try to suffocate you this time.”

“Just don’t hog the blankets.” Eddie said as he jumped into the bed under the covers, and rolled over to the corner facing the wall.

_Wow_, Richie thought in surprise, _He agreed to that easily_. Then he got under the covers too, careful not to touch his sleepy friend beside him.

“Night Eds.” Moments later, Richie fell into a dreamless sleep.

//

Eddie’s sleep, however, was not dreamless.

He woke with a sharp in-take of breath, body shaking furiously.

“Richie?” Eddie said in a confused whisper. The darker haired boy had a hand on his shoulder. His glasses-less eyes bore into him, deep with worry.

“Eddie, you were moaning like crazy. And they definitely weren’t good moans.” He laughed, but cut it short. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

Eddie closed his eyes tightly, vaguely remembering the feeling of exhilarating fear, the _snap_ of his arm breaking, a diseased hand on his shoulder; the fading memories sent shivers down his spine.

“I don’t know.” He said honestly, breathing in deeply and counting backwards from ten. “Talk to me.”

“Um… about what?” Richie whispered, squeezing his friends’ shoulder tightly.

“What you did today.” Eddie breathed.

Richie turned on the small lamp next to him.

“Okay. I went to school…” Richie sighed and sat up a bit, his head resting in his hand. “I smoked a bit with Beverly at lunch… I went to the first yearbook club meeting…” He scratched his chin. “then I went to the baseball thing after school.”

Eddie shook his head. “Bill said you weren’t there.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

"Bill said you weren’t there. In the audience? For like, most of the game.” Eddie looked at his friend curiously, nearly calmed down.

Richie however, felt ill. “I..” He blinked again.

“Richie?” Eddie asked again, highly concerned. “You okay?”

Richie inhaled and ran his hands through his hair. “Yup.”

"You don’t look it.”

There was almost a minute of silence between them.

“Richie.” Eddie smacked his friend lightly in the face.

"Ow, what!” Richie snapped.

“You can talk to me…”

Richie paused again.

Then he flipped on his side, facing his back toward his best and closest friend.

“Okay…”

“Yeah…?”

“This girl from my chemistry class wanted to meet me under the bleachers.” He rushed out.

“Oh—you—huh?”

He laughed humourlessly. “She wanted my tongue down her throat. She wanted my signature, one-of-a-kind, lip-lock, stop-and-drop. She wanted to sex me up. She wanted a ride on the Tozier Train, destination; Fucksville. She—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Eddie interrupted. "You're usually mouthing off about shit like this all the time." 

“It didn’t go well.” Richie bit his nail.

“I almost doubt that.” Eddie laughed dryly.

“No, it… I… didn’t like it.”

"What? _Why_?” Eddie perked up. He sounded genuinely curious.

"Why are you suddenly so interested?”

“Richie…”

Richie didn’t answer for a moment again. His eyes squeezed together as tightly as possible, childishly wishing this was a dream, praying he would wake up. He trusted Eddie. He trusted him with every inch of his life, and he felt an overwhelming urge to just let-up and tell him the _damn truth. _

"Sorry, Rich… goodnight, I guess.”

"I didn’t like it.” Richie whispered finally. “I felt… really… uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s silence was deafening.

"Why?” He asked weakly.

“I didn’t like _her_.” He put a strain on the ‘her.’ _Please, please don’t make me say anything more._

“Oh.” Eddie said. “So…”

"I kissed her and I didn’t like...this _girl_. She was so pretty Eddie, I mean… she… don’t tell Bev, but she was way hotter than Bev. But like, in a different way.” He laughed weakly, then swallowed. “I felt...”

"You didn’t like her?” Eddie asked in a whisper.

“No.” Richie sighed. “I didn’t like her _or_ kissing her.”

He heard Eddie shift in the covers, words almost coming off his lips; just not enough to make an audible sound.

Richie turned to face his friend.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “It’s _weird_.”

“It wasn’t… I mean…” Eddie sounded just as sick as his bedmate. “Dude…”

“What. Just say it.” Richie spat, expecting a turn for the worse. _Please don’t leave._

“Me too.” Eddie muttered, avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Huh?”

"Richie. Me. _Too_.” He repeated it more aggressively.

Richie was shaking nervously, a bit giddy, but also scared out of his fucking mind.

“Really? You're..."

“You touched my thigh.” Eddie said dumbly. Richie jumped up a little. He didn’t expect that.

“Yeah, so?” Richie challenged.

“You kissed my hand.” Eddie’s face was on fire. “When you were sick, last year, you _kissed my hand._”

“…so?” Richie’s body was shaking more violently. _Is this real life?_

“Dude!” Eddie hit his arm again.

“Ouch! Why’d you do that!”

“I don’t know!” Eddie groaned and put his face down into the pillow. “I don’t know…”

“Eds…” He rubbed his friends’ back and sighed. “I like boys.” Richie was so shocked by his own bluntness that he almost slid off the bed.

“Yeah, I know, I got that part.” He sat up to look at his friend and took a nervous, shaky breath. “Dude, you like… _me_…?”

"Okay, please, just—” Richie’s heart was going to pop out of his chest it was beating so God damn hard. “Don’t hate me.”

The brunet’s eyes grew. “Why would I… Richie…”

He grabbed the other’s arm, his face tomato-red. Eddie looked at Richie, then the sheets, then at Richie’s legs, all while licking his lips nervously…

“Oh.” Richie’s face grew into a realizing smile. “Oh.”

“Gah.” Eddie said, hands running through his hair, trying to lie back down. “Ugh!”

"Eds, c’mere…” He remained grinning and grabbed the shorter, pulling him into his embrace.

He kissed Eddie somewhere between his neck and his shoulder.

Eddie _gasped_ in response.

“Sorry.” Richie blurted.

“Holy shit…” He whispered. “I can’t believe this is fucking happening I’m fucking dreaming my life isn’t… this isn’t real, this is a joke… fucking hell, Richie _fucking_ Tozier if this is a _joke_—”

“Shut up, my God.” Richie stroked the back of the panicking boys’ head. “I am freaking out, okay? I’m going to have a fucking heart attack and throw up all over you.”

“Please don’t.” Eddie pulled back and kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Richie nodded, his head dizzy and heavy as if it was filled with cotton. “Is this okay?” He kissed Eddie straight on the lips.

“Good, cool. Amazing. Do it again?” Eddie said floatily, still in disbelief.

“You’ll have to beg me for it.” Richie smirked, looking into Eddie’s wide-blown pupils. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed, trying to hold back an amused smile.

Richie gently raised his hands to hold his shorter friends’ face, stroking the mole on his left cheek. “You really are cute.”

“I can just do it myself, I guess.” He muttered and kissed Richie again. “Weirdo. Asshole. You can’t be normal for one fucking second.”

“I am not normal.” He said and started giggling uncontrollably, running his hand experimentally through Eddie’s bed head. “Richie likey.”

“Yeah?” Eddie chuckled nervously.

“Yeah.” He put his mouth near Eddie’s earlobe and kissed it. “Smells good. You do.” Eddie shivered violently.

Richie felt the nape of the brunet’s neck, long fingers playing with the ends of his hair again. “My hand won’t get back stuck here.”

“Huh?”

"It’s short.” He tugged at it. “Kinda nice.”

“Okay. I think you need to sleep. It’s like, fucking four in the morning.” Eddie pulled Richie down and threw the covers back over them.

“Can I…? Like…” Richie started sleepily.

“What?” Eddie looked at the paler teen’s open arms and his hand that was lightly tugging on his t-shirt in attempts to pull him in closer.

“Oh. Sure.” Eddie Kaspbrak shuffled backward into his friends’ arms.

It wasn’t the very first time they had slept this way, but it felt much different than any other time before. Richie had somehow tugged Eddie even closer, his nose stuck onto the top of his head, his arms wrapped around his torso.

“Sleep tight, Spaghetti.” Richie whispered dreamily.

Eddie sighed slowly and deeply in pure bliss as well as content. He decided to ignore his racing mind for the time being and simply enjoy Richie’s warm presence. He felt more at home than he ever had, here of all places; among Richie Tozier and all his comics and trinkets and dirty laundry…

He loved every bit of it.

“G’night, Richie.” He whispered back.

The rest of Eddie’s sleep was dreamless.

**Author's Note:**

> heheh.


End file.
